Rebuilding a reputation wasn't something that could be done overnight.
Just adding building gameplay and co-op at most made the game a bit more interesting—it still wasn't enough to bring a large number of players back.
Two days later, Mikfo's platform finally seemed to react and uploaded the latest Infinite World update resources as well.
Soon, the average number of online players on Mikfo's side began to rise slowly.
These were all players who had bought the game before—then been deeply hurt by it.
Recently, seeing Infinite World still updating came as a pleasant surprise. And they could tell this update was clearly more fun, so they returned one after another.
What had once dropped to fewer than a hundred concurrent players climbed back to over ten thousand.
But Mikfo didn't gain much from this wave.
Most players still went to Battle.net to play Infinite World, and Battle.net made a small profit as a result.
Gamestar Electronic Entertainment, in order to encourage the Infinite World dev team, didn't take a cut from this discount period—every cent went to the dev team to continue development.
They still needed money for ongoing updates. Rather than taking a commission, it was better to just hand them the revenue and let them allocate it themselves.
This time, Infinite World's reputation recovery was fairly decent. Just like in his previous life, once a good game showed the right signs, it could still spark players' interest.
And this team had also been actively searching for ways to save themselves instead of waiting to die—basically meeting Takayuki's expectations.
They didn't sit idle either. Once Infinite World regained some popularity, they immediately threw themselves back into development.
They already had a new plan.
First: continue optimizing the game.
Then: add new features and new story content.
The current building system was still very basic. Their idea was to create a logical production-and-construction system—giving the game a full "production chain" building loop.
They were also ambitious enough to introduce a kind of city-building gameplay similar to SimCity.
In Infinite World, every world was strange in its own way, but they shared one trait: there were hardly any signs of intelligent life living there.
Using AI generation for that wasn't impossible—but current tech still wasn't perfect. Just generating planets that weren't ugly in real time already consumed enormous compute.
To additionally generate buildings and intelligent communities would be too much for the game, and too much for the developers.
So they came up with a clever workaround:
Since these endless worlds had no cities… why not let players build them with their own hands?
They got this inspiration from Battle.net's mod and creative workshop ecosystem.
There were many players in the world who loved games and had immense creativity.
They enjoyed adding interesting things into the games they were passionate about, making the content richer.
Mods fully showcased the geeky, open nature of games themselves—some games with mods versus without mods were basically two different games.
Now their team wanted to develop a system where players could construct buildings across an entire world, then build cities, and eventually establish a civilization framework within that world.
And speaking of civilization systems, they even wanted to bring in the gameplay ideas of another Gamestar Electronic Entertainment classic series: "Civilization."
Give players the tools and mechanics, and let them create a world they personally found interesting—that was the coolest thing they could imagine.
Takayuki was satisfied when he saw this proposal.
It sounded like stitching a lot of games together, but "stitching" wasn't a big deal. People say all writing is essentially borrowing anyway—games blending systems from each other was normal too.
What mattered was whether the "stitching" had any infringement issues, and whether it was actually fun.
Some companies couldn't do it even if you put a perfect masterpiece right in front of them and told them to copy it.
This team had ambition, at least. Whether that ambition would succeed was another matter.
Still, Takayuki felt a bit excited—he wanted to see another form of this world's "No Man's Sky," one that looked even cooler.
And just like that, 2020 ended, and 2021 arrived.
This year was the year Takayuki had crossed over into this world in his previous life—but the Takayuki of today was worlds apart from who he had once been.
In this world, he had a family, a career.
He had attachments—things he cared about.
At the same time, another video game was about to release:
Metal Gear 5.
In March 2021, the opening day of the Gamestar Carnival was also the release day of Metal Gear 5.
Now, as the only official protagonist of the Metal Gear series, Job had already become a household name among players.
Once upon a time, a permanent scar on his face cost him the chance to rise to the ranks of top movie stars.
But by a twist of fate, he became the face of a legendary video game character.
Over the years, he had played the role through multiple entries—and this time would be the Metal Gear series' farewell work. Job couldn't help feeling a bit sad.
And since it was a farewell, Job naturally became the star of this Gamestar Carnival.
He personally went on stage, personally promoted Metal Gear, and recommended that players experience Metal Gear 5.
Of course, Gamestar Electronic Entertainment didn't say the series was "dead forever." They only said it was "a temporary farewell."
Maybe someday in the future, Takayuki would miss the character, his creative urge would overflow again, and he would reboot the series—bringing Snake back into the public eye, like another classic stealth agent from Takayuki's previous life: Sam Fisher.
"Mr. Job, it's your turn."
Backstage at the Gamestar Carnival, Job had already finished dressing up—this was the protagonist's look from Metal Gear 5.
Dusty from the road, wearing sunglasses, a cigar between his lips, eyes deep—carrying a faint loneliness and weathered grit.
As an actor, he had practically brought Snake to life. He was Snake, and Snake was him.
Even Takayuki had praised Job personally.
In Takayuki's previous life, the Metal Gear series didn't have a real face model—it was all digital modeling from the start.
The reason Takayuki insisted on finding a real person who fit the role in this world was because he wanted to see whether a real face would resonate more.
The results proved it worked quite well.
Both the live-action Metal Gear film and the games attracted more fans because of the real face model.
And with a real face model, even certain film awards occasionally mentioned Metal Gear.
Job stood up, looked toward the stage, then nodded and walked to the center.
"Mr. Job, thank you for your dedication over the years—you already are Snake!"
"Mr. Job, I'm your fan! I really love your Snake. I hope we can still see you in the live-action movies in the future!"
The backstage staff watched him enter the venue with admiration in their eyes.
Job smiled and thanked them one by one.
These backstage workers were great too.
Without them, there wouldn't be such an amazing carnival.
Then, as the countdown appeared on the massive screen, the entire venue went dark.
Right after that, the classic Metal Gear music began to play, and the screen looped one iconic scene after another from the series.
Down below, players shouted passionately.
Many of them were Metal Gear fans.
Among them was one person who was a real agent.
Yes—an authentic agent.
His identity was an elite operative from a certain country.
And the funny part was: he had become an agent in the first place because of Metal Gear.
When he was young, he thought it was unbelievably cool.
Now, after becoming an agent, he had quietly come to Japan to watch Snake's farewell work.
No one knew his true identity. He looked more like a harmless Western neighborhood uncle—beer belly and all.
But in reality, his combat ability was terrifying.
"Snake! Snake!"
The crowd cheered the protagonist's name.
Job, dressed in camouflage, appeared at the center of the stage, and the spotlights converged on him.
Then the music surged.
In that moment, Job became Snake—eyes sharp, as if he could see through everyone in the audience.
In terms of acting, Job was beyond reproach. Otherwise, he wouldn't have won international film awards just by playing a game character.
When he truly embodied Snake, he was intimidating.
"Players, agents—welcome. Thank you for coming, and for attending the Metal Gear series' temporary farewell work."
Job gave a faint smile—only a faint one. He was Snake now, and Snake was never someone who smiled much. He had to maintain the character.
The crowd screamed like idol fans meeting their star.
"You men really aren't any different from us—when you see something you like, you scream too."
"What do you know? Snake is way cooler than those pretty-boy idols. This is what a real man looks like!"
"Hey, hey—don't turn it into a fight."
Cheers continued to erupt.
Then Job began recounting the development history of Metal Gear and the rough outline of this "temporary farewell" entry.
This time, Snake would face a nuclear crisis involving multiple countries. He would have to use his knowledge and skills to resolve a world-level catastrophe.
As for how it ended—that depended entirely on the player.
At the same time, Metal Gear 5 was the first in the series to develop an online multiplayer mode.
In online mode, every player would play as a nuclear-weapons controller. Their goal was to defeat enemies in the competitive online world, destroy the weapons the enemies controlled, and finally keep their own nukes—to threaten everyone else.
It still couldn't escape the broad framework of standard PvP.
But it was still quite fun, and at the carnival there were already demo stations for players to try.
As for when the online mode would be fully launched, it was scheduled for mid-year. By then, most players would likely have cleared the main story—so playing online afterward would carry more emotional weight.
In the audience, that real agent felt a bit sad.
Even agents eventually reach the day of farewell.
In the game, players would always remember that the world had an agent like Snake.
But as for him… even at the moment of his death, no one would know what he had done, or what he had once sacrificed for peace.
Then again, he hadn't truly worked for world peace—he mostly served his own country.
In that sense, he felt ashamed. Snake was clearly someone with a bigger ideal, while he was just another powerless member of the trade.
If one day he could save the world like Snake did—even if he died—he would accept it.
"Golden Snake, there's a mission. Don't stay any longer."
At that moment, a voice sounded in his ear.
The "agent," who had looked like a harmless uncle, instantly sharpened his gaze.
Now he was just like Snake onstage.
Next… was his moment to act.
As for the Gamestar Carnival, and Metal Gear—those would have to be set aside for now.
He quietly left the venue. With so many people around, no one would notice a single person slipping away.
It was the perfect place for him to hide.
But before leaving, he glanced once more toward the Metal Gear demo area and the game sales booths.
They were selling Metal Gear merchandise.
Snake's signature cigar, sunglasses, mechanical prosthetic arm, and more.
He hesitated, and in the end, turned toward the shop.
"Hello, sir. Are you looking to buy some merchandise?"
The clerk had been craning his neck toward the stage—he too was a Metal Gear fan and felt a little melancholy about the "temporary farewell."
But seeing a customer approach, he snapped back into professional mode and greeted the foreign man warmly.
The foreigner looked… ordinary.
"I want to buy some Metal Gear merch. How much for all of these as a bundle?"
The "agent" pointed at the items displayed: books, sunglasses, scarves, and other merchandise.
"Ah—if you're bundling, hold on, let me calculate." The clerk hurried over with a calculator.
"The total is… $3,726. If you buy as a bundle, there's a discount—we can make it $3,600. Would you like to buy everything?"
He nodded. "Yes. Consider it respect for the farewell work. I'll write an address—can you arrange shipping?"
"No problem, sir. We offer shipping services, international shipping included."
"Good. Thank you."
The clerk quickly packed everything. Then he noticed the foreigner, after paying, was about to leave. He couldn't resist stepping forward.
"Sir, may I ask—are you also a loyal Metal Gear fan?"
The "agent" looked back. "Yes."
"Sir, you have great taste. This is my favorite game too. I hope you have a wonderful time playing Metal Gear 5."
"Thank you."
The "agent" didn't say anything more.
What he had just done was already a violation of protocol—but he didn't care.
It was his respect for Metal Gear.
And then, he silently vanished into the crowd at the Gamestar Carnival.